Albatross
by boasamishipper
Summary: Purely a short snippet from the movie when Howard accidently shoots Stephen, and a slight AU as to what happens afterwards, though it will end canon compliant. My take on Jack's thoughts about the situation.


**Purely a short snippet from the movie when Howard accidently shoots Stephen, and a slight AU as to what happens afterwards, though it will end canon compliant. My take on Jack's thoughts about the situation.**

**This will probably be my only foray into this fandom unless there's more Stephen-whump in the books, which I haven't had the pleasure of reading yet.**

**British readers, I tried my best to make my own American English sound British. If I did something wrong, please don't hesitate to call me out on it: no offense will be taken whatsoever.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Master and Commander. Book rights go to Patrick O'Brian, movie rights go to Peter Weir. Really wish I did own them, though—especially Stephen. :)**

Albatross by boasamishipper

Jack Aubrey had never understood Stephen's fascination with the birds and the bees. While his friend could very well spend hours gazing at beetles or iguanas and taking tedious notes in his journal, Jack probably couldn't even last a minute without getting bored.

Dr. Stephen Maturin was a man of many talents, yes: he was a bloody brilliant doctor; that much was shown almost every day. He provided Jack with good advice in nearly every situation. That much Jack could live with.

The naturalist obsession, however, was something that Jack usually would ignore.

After today, though, with that bloody bird, he never wanted to hear or see anything relating to Stephen's so-called hobby again.

The day started out with Jack patrolling the quarter deck, seeing how his crew was doing. He'd hoped that the sudden rainfall would placate the men and cause them to work harder.

"Doctor?" Plaice called, alerting Stephen towards him. "You seen the bird that's following us?"

Jack noticed in amusement that Stephen perked up almost instantly. From all the times Jack's worked with the man, Stephen's mood always rose when he switched from doctor to naturalist. _Always a guarantee,_ Jack thought with a small smile as Stephen questioned what sort of bird it was.

"Sort of an albatross," Plaice said.

"Really?" Stephen asked in interest, his mind probably already working overtime to figure out every sort of thing about that bird.

"Either that or some prodigious great mew," said Plaice. Jack, with a smile, watched Stephen roam off towards the bird, an enchanted look on his face as he got a good look at it. _It was an impressive bird,_ Jack grudgingly noticed. Huge, with at least a fourteen foot wing-span, and flying very close to the ship, drifting and soaring on the gusting wind, appearing and disappearing between the sails.

Stephen was absolutely mesmerized by it.

If Jack was truly honest with himself, this was probably the happiest he'd seen his friend since they'd come to the Galapagos Islands.

Stephen let go of the rail, leaning forward to get a better view. At the same time across from Stephen on the opposite gangway, Howard, followed by two or three marines, opened fire on the bird. The albatross dropped low, flying right by Stephen.

A shot blasted out in the ship, hitting Stephen's side.

But that wasn't even the horrible bit.

The momentum from the bullet somehow sent Stephen forward, taking the doctor over the railing, and with a loud splash that seemed to echo in the silence of the ship, Jack's best friend fell overboard.

Just like that, Dr. Stephen Maturin was gone.

Jack stood there, his mind frozen, along with his heart. He wanted to rub his eyes and look again, sure that if he did, Stephen would still be standing there with his usual smile and taking furious notes on the albatross's anatomy.

He blinked once, twice, three times.

Jack refused to believe it, but the garbled, trembling murmurs from Howard and the rest of the crew were clear enough to understand.

Stephen was gone.

_Shit, shit, shit. _Jack swore in every language that he knew and even some that he'd made up on the spot.

_Stephen._

"Captain…" Howard muttered, wringing his hands together. The shotgun lay forgotten on the deck. "I—I'm s-so, s-so sorry, sir…I didn't…I didn't m-mean to…I—I…"

Howard's rambling continued, but Jack didn't hear it at all. Everything sounded as though he was underwater.

Everything was numb. Nothing could compute, nothing made sense. If someone had said that two and two made twenty-seven to Jack Aubrey just then, he would've taken their word for it.

Suddenly, a rush of heat washed over him. His heart rate sped up. _Jesus Christ._

Jack had just seen his best friend take a shot from one of his comrades and had fallen into the ocean. He didn't know if Stephen was alive, dead, drowned, bleeding out, or swimming, but there was absolutely no time to think about the _what ifs_ of the situation.

He'd already lost Worley and Hollum. He couldn't—he wasn't about to—lose Stephen either. _Not bloody ever._

Goddamnit all. The image of Stephen's fall replayed in Jack's mind with vivid clarity, giving Jack an adrenaline-fueled strength unlike any other. He broke into a run, pausing only to kick off his shoes and dove right off the ship to the cries of everyone.

Jack didn't even care that his best outfit was getting ruined. As far as he was concerned, clothes were replaceable.

His best friend wasn't.

The coldness of the ocean nearly shocked Jack out of his wits, but he managed to right himself and popped his head above the water, taking a long, deep breath. Treading water to keep himself afloat, Jack noticed the choppiness of the waves and the scared faces of every man aboard his ship. Pausing for only a moment, he dove back under.

It took his eyes less than five seconds to adjust to the salty water. Jack knew that so close to the surface he could see quite easily, but the farther down he went his visibility would reach zero.

_Not too much time has passed,_ Jack told himself sternly, _right?_ He knew; from listening to Stephen instruct Higgins, that a body sank slowly with oxygen in its lungs. It wasn't likely that Stephen could've sunk so far so fast.

Kicking back to the surface again, Jack sucked in a long breath and cursed loudly. _Stephen, you bloody arse, where are you?_ Jack thought desperately. He dove back underwater, counting the seconds.

Jack knew he was running out of time. That _Stephen _was running out of time. But for the life of him, he couldn't spot head nor tail of his friend at all.

_Dear God…please…please let me find him, _he begged inwardly, praying to any and all gods and the devil too. _Please._

But then...Jack's eyes narrowed, taking in the sight of a dark shape, not three meters away. At first he thought it was a shark, coming to end his life along with Stephen's. But as Jack got closer with one powerful kick, the shape became Stephen. His limbs were hanging limply, hair wafting in the stillness of the water. His head was slack and his eyes were closed.

He appeared dead.

Jack would've cried out in agony had he not been so low on air intake.

_Damn oxygen, _Jack admonished. _This is Stephen we're talking about._

And with Stephen, everything changed.

Kicking harder and harder, he reached the limp form of his friend, but didn't have time to check on him. The need for oxygen became too pressing to ignore as Jack began to feel lightheaded.

Lungs aching and almost screaming for air, Jack kicked his way to the surface with Stephen in his arms and gasped, taking in the deepest breath he possibly could. His ears rang with the sound of his crew cheering, but he didn't dare join in.

He may have gotten Stephen back, but this was far from over.

After all, getting to the surface had saved his own life. That Jack knew for sure.

But gazing at Stephen's still body, Jack was painfully aware that it could've been too late for his friend.

The bloody albatross was still circling around the ship, and Jack wanted to wring its neck. If it wasn't for that _stupid_ thing, they wouldn't be in this situation. If Stephen hadn't been a _bloody_ naturalist, they wouldn't have been in this situation. If Howard had aimed better, the bird would've gone done, and they wouldn't be in this situation.

Jack barely paid attention as a few members of his crew rescued them from the cold, black-blue waves.

Because no matter whom Jack administered the blame on, Stephen would still be bleeding out from a hole in his side after nearly drowning in the ocean.

And Jack Aubrey was powerless to do anything about it.

Plaice, Howard, and Calamy lowered them onto the deck and tried to take Stephen away, but Jack hung on tightly to his friend. "Calamy," he ordered with a calm thread in his voice that he didn't feel whatsoever, "get Higgins."

"Yes, sir." With a salute, Calamy vanished.

"Dear God," murmured one of the marines. "Is he dead, Captain?"

Jack wanted more than anything to say no, but could not be sure. This was Stephen's territory, not his. "I hope not," he whispered, not caring if the man heard him or not.

Calamy reappeared with a trembling Higgins behind him, who held a glass of rum in his hand. "What happened?" Higgins asked.

Jack opened his mouth, but couldn't say anything. "Stephen—Dr. Maturin got shot in the side," Jack said tightly, "and fell…into the ocean."

Higgins swore under his breath and shoved his rum at Calamy, who nearly dropped it. "Dear Lord…does he have a pulse, sir?" asked Higgins briskly, kneeling down next to Stephen.

Jack didn't know and told the de facto doctor so.

Higgins swore again and grabbed Stephen's wrist. Jack prayed that he'd found something, anything, but Higgins' face remained inscrutable. "How long has it been?" Higgins asked.

"Nearly six minutes," someone called.

_Had it really been that long? _Jack wondered. It had seemed like less than a minute to him. "Does he have a pulse?" Jack asked urgently.

"No, Captain," Higgins muttered sadly, and Jack's heart shattered into a thousand pieces. _Oh, no…Stephen…oh Stephen…_

No. No. No. Jack prided himself on never backing down without a fight, and this was one of those situations. "Can't you do anything, Mr. Higgins?" Jack said desperately. "Anything?"

"There isn't a way to bring a man back from the dead," Higgins said slowly.

"Come on, man, there has to be something you can do!" Jack begged. "What about that—that method that Stephen once told me about? The — the Stallman method or something of the sort…"

"The Sylvester method?"

"Yes, that's the one," Jack nodded. "Can't you do that?"

"I—er, it's a fairly new method, sir, even the good doctor couldn't do it…"

"Anything is better than now, Higgins," Jack said. "We can't give up. We just can't. Why, if it were one of us, Stephen wouldn't have given up…" he trailed off, because Jack knew that once he'd started to refer to his friend in the past tense, then it was the beginning of the end. "As the Captain of this ship, I'm ordering you to do whatever you can to save his life," ordered Jack. "Anything."

Higgins nodded. "Yes, sir." His voice quavered with the tremendous pressure he was under. Higgins almost exploded into his work, tearing off Stephen's vest and fashioning it into a wrap for his side, which still trickled blood. Once Higgins was sure that the wrap would secure, he turned to Jack.

"Captain, I'm going to need some help with this one," ordered Higgins. Jack stood up with a nod. He was unsure as to when Higgins possessed more authority than him, but didn't question it. When push came to shove, Higgins could do a better job at helping Stephen than Jack ever could. "Hold him still, please, sir."

Jack held Stephen, glad to be able to do something.

Higgins pushed himself up tall, finding the spot above Stephen's heart. He pressed down on it with both hands hard and fast. Jack counted nearly 100 beats per minute. Jack's arms ached from holding Stephen's jerking body, but didn't dare let go. Instead he busied himself with looking at his friend.

One arm was sprawled at his side while the other rested in Jack's lap. Water dripped down his face. His complexion was nearly translucent, marred by a bit of blood at his temple. His mouth was open slightly, and Jack noted, with a heavy heart, that Stephen's lips were blue. "Damnit," he muttered.

"Captain." Jack snapped to attention. "Tilt his head back, please." Jack did so.

Higgins leaned close to Stephen's mouth to check for his breathing, and Jack held his breath. _Please, please, please…_Nothing. Higgins shook his head and began to administer compressions once more.

"Damn you, Stephen," Jack found himself yelling at the prone figure of his friend. "You bloody bastard, you're not allowed to die on me! As the Captain of this ship, I'm ordering you to breathe!"

Stephen's head lolled when he should've ranted right back, as was his wont.

That was the final straw for Jack Aubrey.

"Stephen! You have to breathe! I am ordering—" Jack paused and took a deep breath, wishing Stephen could too. "Please, Stephen, please breathe…" he begged. "Please…please, you have to."

His name was "Lucky Jack", but he didn't feel lucky.

On the contrary, he felt more unlucky than ever before.

He was scared.

Captain Jack Aubrey felt more terrified than he ever had in his entire life.

He shoved Higgins out of the way and administered the compressions himself. "Come on, Stephen," he ordered. "Come on." He repeated that under his breath for the next minute. "Come on, come on, come on…Please, dear God, please…breathe."

Jack was unaware of when the sweat on his face mingled with salty tears.

He tilted Stephen's head back and listened intently, choking back a sob. Jack placed a shaking finger to Stephen's throat, praying for something, but nothing happened. Then again, Jack didn't know what to expect.

_God, please…please let him live, let him live…I need him._

And then there was a movement that wasn't the rocking of the ship or Jack's adrenaline-fueled terror.

Stephen twitched.

Jack didn't dare move, lest it had been his imagination. "Stephen?" he whispered in shock.

Stephen didn't respond, but he twitched once more, giving a weak cough.

"Oh my God," Higgins mumbled.

Stephen was _alive._

Jack nearly fainted.

Stephen coughed once more, his brow furrowing as he choked for air. Higgins, as though in a dream, tilted Stephen to his side. He hacked up water and flailed on the deck, but then he relaxed.

For one terrible moment, Jack thought that Stephen had really died on him that time. "S-Stephen?" he asked in a quavering voice.

His friend's response was another deep breath and a twitch in his brow.

Jack sniffled hard, wiping the tears off his cheeks. "He's alive," he announced weakly to the rest of the crew. The sound of their exuberance nearly blasted his eardrums, and Jack nearly joined in until he realized that Stephen was trying to say something. "Quiet," Jack barked. The crew was instantly silent.

Stephen's eyes were half-shut, squinting against the sunlight. His mouth moved, but no sound came out.

"What is it, Stephen?" asked Jack quietly.

Stephen's voice was hoarse and weak, but it was the sweetest thing that Jack had ever heard. "Where's…the b-bird?" he inquired, blinking groggily.

Jack burst out laughing and crying at the same time.

"S' the matter?" Stephen slurred. His eyes opened all the way. "Mr. Higgins? What're you doin' here?"

Higgins responded by taking the glass of rum from Calamy and downing it in one gulp. "God Almighty, he lives," Higgins muttered under his breath. "My God."

"Jack?" Now Stephen looked afraid. "What happened?"

There was no pushing around the matter. "You were…er, shot, chasing the bird," Jack informed his friend. "And then you fell overboard."

"I—I, what?" Stephen asked, perturbed. "Then how on God's green earth am I still alive?"

"I jumped in after you, then Mr. Higgins and I administered the Sylvester method on you," Jack said, not willing to go back and think about the horror he'd felt at seeing Stephen dead.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph," Stephen muttered. "Unbelievable that such a method actually worked. I'd always considered it to be rather disadvantageous."

Jack didn't bother to say that the entire day had been one disadvantage after the other. "Are you alright?" he asked his friend.

"Considering the fact that I was shot and fell into the ocean—"Stephen coughed. "Quite well, actually. Are you alright, Jack?"

Jack blinked dumbly. "Me? I haven't been shot, Stephen," was all he could think of to say.

Because if anything, Stephen had just gotten shot and fallen into the ocean and had died and come back to life miraculously, but he was worried about Jack?

Really?

_Bloody hell._

Stephen acknowledged his statement with a nod. "Fair enough."

"Dr. Maturin." Higgins suddenly appeared. "We need to get you down below to treat your bullet wound."

Stephen looked down at his side. "So you do. Alright then, Mr. Higgins."

"Padeen, Davies, carry the Doctor below," Jack ordered.

Stephen slowly forced himself into a standing position with Higgins' help. "I'm quite capable of walking, Jack," he said and would've crumpled back to the ground if Padeen, Davies and Higgins hadn't caught him.

"Naturally," Jack humored his friend before assisting the men to carry his friend down below.

_I owe Higgins a raise, that's for damn sure,_ Jack thought. He turned around to face Howard, who looked seconds away from passing out. "Captain Howard," Jack said clearly.

"Sir?"

"Would you mind if I borrowed your shotgun so that I may dispose of that bloody albatross?" asked Jack. "It's getting on my last nerve."

Howard smiled and handed the shotgun to Jack. "Use it well, Captain."

"I will later," Jack nodded. "Excuse me, gentlemen, but I'm going to go and check on Stephen."

**And we are now canon compliant.**


End file.
